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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748191">Blades of Silver and Green</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganelon8/pseuds/Ganelon8'>Ganelon8</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arthurian Mythology, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Consent is Sexy, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Gawain is a Bicon, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rewrite, The Lady has a name here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:29:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganelon8/pseuds/Ganelon8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious Green Knight issues a challenge at court, Gawain accepts. He expects to find adventure, but finds love too along the way.</p><p>A rewrite of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, but with the proper ending it deserves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bertilak de Hautdesert/Lady Bertilak, Gawain/Bertilak de Hautdesert, Lady Bertilak/Gawain, Lady Bertilak/Gawain/Bertilak de Hautdesert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is one of my favorite works in the full Arthurian canon, and one of my favorite versions of Gawain. I have a copy of the romance next to me as I go and I hope to keep it fresh despite being so very clearly drawn from the pages of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight! I can promise there will be a LOT more kissing and probably some smut later in the story, along with a few changes to the original romance, the hastily added misogynistic ending being one of many things that will be altered. </p><p>I hope you enjoy this, feedback is always appreciated &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a bright winter’s morning, bright and young as everyone seated at the Round Table, and in the great hall feasting with their golden and smiling king and their golden and solemn queen. The sky was clear though the snow had newly fallen in the night, coating everything with thick, heavy powdered diamonds which shone in the sunlight, polished to a shine like the swords of the knights. It was not the sort of day when one expected their world to be irrevocably changed.</p><p>Gawain sat with his brothers, all but the youngest who was too young yet for court. Gareth was on one side and he was half turned to scold Gaheris who had been complaining of how long it took the servants to refill their wine and bring out the food already, and Agravaine was on his other side, already halfway to being happily drunk. Everyone at court was eager to remark on how similar and handsome all the brothers were, with their red-gold hair, strong builds, and handsome faces, like a matched set. They were all quite young, Gareth being newly knighted and new to court after an adventure with a sharp-tongued young lady he was now engaged to at eighteen years old. Gawain was barely five years his senior.</p><p>“Agravaine, you’ve got all day, there’s no need to rush it,” Gawain said, noticing as Agravaine finished his drink again.</p><p>Agravaine grinned, not setting aside his drinking horn but not refilling it. “Relax, it’s New Year’s! It’s a party!”</p><p>“Yes, but they’ve not even brought the food yet,” Gawain said. There was dancing and music, but not yet food. He would have wondered at that, except the king, their uncle, was often known to wait to serve food until he had heard tell of some great adventure or until something marvelous had occurred.</p><p>With a nonchalant wave, Agravaine said, “They will. That’ll be the last until I’ve eaten if you’re so determined to mother hen me.”</p><p>Gawain frowned and felt his cheeks warm. “I’m not mothering you, I’m just—”</p><p>“Just being a concerned brother, I know,” Agravaine said, with another wave. “When do you think someone will have a story good enough for our uncle?”</p><p>“I think that all of the stories here he’s heard already,” Gawain said.</p><p>King Arthur, their uncle, was laughing and standing with a group of knights near the end of the great dias where his throne was located. He had a tankard in one hand, and the other was placed on his hip, near where Excalibur hung. He was dressed in a rich fur lined robe and a brightly colored tunic underneath, his blonde hair and beard shining around his head as brightly as his crown. His great booming laugh could be heard all around the room.</p><p>“He certainly seems amused, if not yet satisfied,” Gawain said.</p><p>“I sure hope Gareth doesn’t tell us all how he met Lyonesse again,” Agravaine said with a chuckle. Everyone at court had heard that story from both parties more times than they could count. It was still sweet, but Gawain felt that he could recite it by heart now. “We’ve all heard that adventure before.”</p><p>“I’m very happy for them,” Gawain said, turning to Gareth who hadn’t heard and was still bickering with Gaheris, though now about whether a lord or the captain held more authority on a ship.</p><p>“Yeah, they’re fine kids,” Agravaine said. “What about you? Got someone special on your mind?”</p><p>Gawain smiled and shook his head. “I hardly have time. And you?”</p><p>Agravaine laughed. “Nah. Gaheris seems to like Lyonesse’s sister. The mean one, Lynette. I think they’ll suit each other well.”</p><p>Gawain swallowed another smile at that. Gaheris could often be quite sharp, even rude, and it was nice to see that he and Lynette enjoyed needling each other, though whether that was a good basis for a relationship, Gawain couldn’t say. “They seem to be only friends now, which I am glad of at least. She certainly doesn’t hesitate to give as good as he does.”</p><p>“That’s true! But yet not to shut down their argument, like the seneschal would, since he has no time for Gaheris’ fussing,” Agravaine said, chuckling again.</p><p>“Sir Kay is a very busy man,” Gawain said, glancing to where Kay was indeed looking very harassed, talking to the very side with a few servers, probably trying to make sure the food would be warm for when it eventually was brought out.</p><p>“Do you and Kay have some secret engagement?” Agravaine said. “You’re the only person here he can stand, besides the queen.”</p><p>He glanced over to the queen. She sat in the middle of the high dias on her throne, with velvet hangings around her and the empty throne of her husband. Guinevere, his aunt by marriage, was about the same age as him so relatively young, dressed resplendently in red velvet with gems around her neck. Her warm brown hair was pulled back in an elaborate braid, and her grey eyes were soft as she held a golden goblet in her hand, watching over the crowd.</p><p>Guinevere did not meet his eyes, and continued silently presiding over the feast. Gawain wondered but did not ask what it was that she was thinking of, her grey eyes so absent from the festivities around her.</p><p>“No, Agravaine, I do not have a secret engagement with Sir Kay,” Gawain said. “We are good friends, yes, but not quite like that.”</p><p>“That’s kind of disappointing,” Agravaine said. “If he became our brother-in-law, I’d get access to the best wine here. Nepotism, right?”</p><p>Gawain couldn’t help but laugh. “I shall start wooing him immediately then, just so that you get access to the king’s personal wine cellar.”</p><p>Agravaine grinned back. “Cheers, I knew I could count on you!”</p><p>There was a pause in the music and festivities, as the king moved back to the dias, raising his tankard as he got everyone’s attention.</p><p>“A toast,” Arthur cried, “to the Round Table! Never before have I seen such a band of warriors gathered, and never will I again!”</p><p>A large cheer went up, everyone raising their own goblets or tankards or horns. Agravaine, Gawain noted, was having juice this time.</p><p>No one knew where Lancelot was, Perceval was still on his self imposed exile, Palomides was still in Cornwall, Yvain had elected to spend the holiday with his pregnant wife at home rather than they both make the long journey to Camelot in the winter. Even with those knights and others missing, it was still an impressive group. There was the one chair that remained always unfilled, and there were often other empty seats from when knights were absent and questing, but the Round Table was indeed comprised of the greatest band of fighters that had ever been gathered in the land.</p><p>After everyone had drunk, then Arthur said, “And to my lovely wife, Queen Guinevere.”</p><p>There was another cheer, and she smiled from where she sat, raising her goblet to Arthur in turn.</p><p>“To Arthur, the noblest of kings,” Guinevere said, to another cheer. When that had quieted, she stood, and moved to Arthur. “Have you heard a story that has satisfied you then, Your Majesty?”</p><p>“Not yet,” Arthur said with a frown, looking over the assembled crowd. “Does anyone have an adventure we’ve not yet heard?”</p><p>Gareth had been about to eagerly stand up, but Gawain and Gaheris on either side of him were able to convince him to sit back down.</p><p>There was a clattering sound from the closed doors to the great hall, almost as though a great wind had picked up and branches were battering at the doors. All heads swung over to see what the noise was, some knights already half standing, when the doors swung open. Unhindered by any guards, in rode a monstrous knight.</p><p>Taller than any other as though he were half-giant, this knight was thickly muscled and powerfully built, with big shoulders and chest, and luxuriantly kept beard and hair that hung, long, like a bush, from his head. The horse he rode was also massive, and attired in partial armor. The knight was unarmored but armed with a massive Danish axe in one hand and a bough of holly in the other, wearing richly embroidered tunic and robe and cloak, though bizarrely his feet were bare. The strangest thing about the knight and his horse was that both were entirely green.</p><p>At the sight of this green man, the knights all froze in place. From the barely hidden fright, someone of them seemed to think it some witchcraft or a malignant fey spirit. Arthur alone had a delighted expression on his face.</p><p>In a rich, warm voice that boomed loud than any other through the hall, the Green Knight said, “Who is the noblest of the knights here? I’d like to talk to them.”</p><p>Gawain watched as Arthur, fearlessly, stepped from the dias towards the Green Knight. “Sir, you are welcome here,” Arthur said, smiling broadly. “I am King Arthur, the head of this host. Please, dismount and join us. I would be glad to hear what your story is.”</p><p>“No, thank you,” the Green Knight said. “I have only come for a short time. From every corner of this land, from Orkney to Cornwall and Dover, from the material castles to the Otherworld, stories have been sung of you and your band of knights. I have been told that there is strength and honor and chivalry here unlike anywhere else. This branch I carry shows that I come in peace, but I come here to ask of an exchange.”</p><p>With a delighted gleam in his eye, Arthur said, “If it is combat that you have come here for, you will not lack it here.”</p><p>“No, I’ve not come to fight,” the Green Knight said. “I’ve come to see if any knight here is brave enough to face me in my challenge. If anyone here is truly as courageous as the songs say, they’ll exchange one stroke for another, and at the close I’ll give them my axe. I’ll take the first blow, standing here, defenseless, and a year from now they’ll receive one from me in turn. I will take the blow, unflinching, and they must do the same. Does anyone dare accept this challenge?”</p><p>The Green Knight’s mouth split in a grin as he surveyed the room. When his deep green gaze met Gawain’s, for that half a moment he could have sworn that the knight could read his thoughts. Surely this was some fey rider, here for mischief whatever he said. The challenge, though, would be binding to him in word, if he was fey.</p><p>Arthur, still standing near the Green Knight, said, “Why, this hardly seems like a fair challenge to you, though it is an exciting one. Perhaps I—”</p><p>Before the king could finish that, Gawain leapt to his feet. “King Arthur, uncle,” Gawain said, bowing and pitching his voice so it carried clearly across the great hall. “I beg of you, please let me accept this challenge.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am going to try and keep to a weekly upload schedule for this fic. I have a few chapters ahead written so that should be a good buffer for when classes start up in the autumn in case I fall behind. I hope you enjoy the chapter, comments and feedback are always appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At Gawain’s words, the quiet that had fallen over the court seemed to grow thicker, heavier. Gawain felt almost like he were wading through water as he stepped from his seat to join Arthur and the Green Knight in the middle of the floor.</p>
<p>“I accept your challenge,” Gawain said.</p>
<p>Somewhere, behind him, he heard worried murmuring from his brothers, and Arthur was looking at him with a worried expression.</p>
<p>“Gawain, are you certain?” Arthur said.</p>
<p>“Yes, my liege,” Gawain said, turning from his king to the Green Knight, who dismounted.</p>
<p>Even standing, the Green Knight was enormous. He was at least two heads taller than any of the other knights, broader and stronger in stance and musculature. There were different shades of green in his beard and skin and clothes, and now that he stood closer, Gawain saw there were little bits of ivy braided in his hair. He was like the green men in appearance, the fey spirits that often graced carvings to protect houses, that were said to protect natural spaces. If this Green Knight were truly like one of those green men, then surely this challenge was not malicious. Surely whatever mischief he intended was not done in hatred.</p>
<p>“So there is a brave knight among this court,” the Green Knight said, surveying Gawain in turn.</p>
<p>He tried to stand a little taller, knowing that the Green Knight would see a youngish knight, with red-gold hair curled down to his chin, wearing a robe of red and gold. His sword was at his side, and he was not large, nor was he small. It was winter, so there was only the faded remnants of freckles which had crossed his cheeks in summer, his fair skin faded from lack of sunlight. His eyes, though, were green like the man who stood before him. While the stranger’s eyes were a dark green, like the forest at night, Gawain’s were bright, the same color as his brothers and their late father, clear like emeralds under running water.</p>
<p>“There are many brave knights at this court, sir,” Gawain said.</p>
<p>“And yet you are the one who accepted my challenge. Do you have so little fear for your life, or is it courage that moves you?”</p>
<p>Gawain felt himself flush. “I cannot say. But what should I call you, sir?”</p>
<p>“You may call me the Green Knight,” the knight said with an amused grin. It was hardly a name, unknown knights were always referred to by the color of their armor if it were unusual, else by their coat of arms. There had been a few Red Knights who had troubled Camelot, and an epithet such as that would be acceptable for a fey creature to share, rather than their own name which would give others power over them.</p>
<p>But Gawain said none of that, and offered a courtly bow, saying, “I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Green Knight. Shall we begin the challenge?”</p>
<p>Arthur had stepped back by now, onto the dias again. His worry for his nephew had already faded, replaced by unwavering interest in the proceedings. Guinevere had moved away, the line between her brows deeper, sharing none of her husband’s interest, as though his earlier worry had been displaced and grew her own.</p>
<p>The Green Knight grinned, and held out the Danish axe to Gawain. Even the blade of the axe was green, though the hilt was wound with holly like the branch the knight carried. “Do you need a weapon?”</p>
<p>Gawain drew his sword, the hilt worn and comfortable from years of use, the blade gleaming like silver in the light. “Will this do, sir?”</p>
<p>“It will,” the Green Knight said, reattaching his axe to hang from his back. </p>
<p>“Make sure your blow is true, nephew,” Arthur called.</p>
<p>“Of course, sire,” Gawain said.</p>
<p>“What am I to call you?” the Green Knight said, getting to his knees before Gawain. Even like this, his size was apparent.</p>
<p>“I am called Gawain,” he said. “I will offer you this blow, whatever comes after. A year from now, I shall receive you from one in turn.”</p>
<p>The Green Knight grinned as Gawain moved around him, now looking at the back of his head. “Gawain. Well, I’m happy its you who will be striking the blow. You seem to be a noble knight indeed. Will you give me your troth that you shall find me before those twelve months have passed?”</p>
<p>“Where should I seek to find you?” Gawain said, not yet raising his sword.</p>
<p>“I shall tell you after your blow as been dealt,” the Green Knight said, still facing away. “Now, strike.”</p>
<p>“I will, sir.” The Green Knight bent his neck forward, but his long hair still obscured the back of his neck. Gently, Gawain reached out, brushing the hair aside, trying not to brush skin, trying not to notice the soft texture as the hair parted.</p>
<p>Gawain felt a little sick. Surely, surely this was not just a competition to get a knight of the Round Table to kill an innocent man. Surely it were not some trick like that to start a war.</p>
<p>The obvious fey nature of the Green Knight was what kept his feet rooted, and what made him take a deep breath, raising his sword. He kept his stance squared off, the left foot a little forward, and did not breath again as he brought the blade down in a mighty swing.</p>
<p>It struck clean, severing the head completely from the body, sword’s tip biting into the floor below.</p>
<p>But the Green Knight’s body neither staggered nor fell. Instead, he calmly stood up once more, then bent down, lifting his own head up in one large hand. There were various cries of horror from the court as, before their eyes, the now headless knight turned to Gawain, who stood, still unmoving, eyes wide. </p>
<p>“Do not forget your oath here, Gawain,” the Green Knight said, head speaking even though it was no longer connected to the rest of the body. “You have sworn it before the entire court.”</p>
<p>“Even if it had been just us, sir, I would still hold to it,” Gawain said, voice weak.</p>
<p>The Green Knight laughed, and swung up onto the back of his enormous green warhorse. There was blood coming from where the neck and head had separated, and somehow, that was what made Gawain a little queasy. This was still a being of flesh and blood, and even if this did not kill him, he still bled. Gawain hoped it was not painful, then was seized with a sudden fear as he realized what his fate a year from now was to be. He would have the very blow he had dealt returned, separating his own head from his body.</p>
<p>He felt his hands start to shake and he dropped his sword, letting it clatter to the ground before him, looking up at the Green Knight, eyes still wide.</p>
<p>“Seek out the Green Chapel,” the Green Knight said. “There, you will find me on New Year’s morning next year. Come, or else be an oath breaker.”</p>
<p>“I will, sir,” Gawain said, mouth dry. He was still shaking.</p>
<p>With that, the Green Knight took the horse’s reins in his free hand and tugged the horse round, galloping out of the large doors, fire sparking from the hooves striking stone. </p>
<p>Gawain stood still, watching until he could no longer see the Green Knight, then watching a little longer. For the first time in his life, Gawain felt something like fear. Perhaps, in this otherworldly knight, he had met his demise. In a year, he would find out.</p>
<p>Behind him, he heard the distinctive sound of Arthur’s laugh. Jolly, amused, it didn’t take long before the rest of the court joined in with his genial laugh.</p>
<p>But it was Guinevere who was at his side, even as he was still staring after the Green Knight. She touched his shoulder gently, and said, “Gawain, a lot may change in a year.”</p>
<p>He let out a long breath, and broke his gaze from the now empty gates that were now closing. “That is true, Your Majesty,” he said softly.</p>
<p>Guinevere did not smile, nor otherwise try and reassure him. “There must be some trick to this, some reason,” she said, her voice low. “This knight cannot have done this without some reason…”</p>
<p>“I hope so,” Gawain murmured. “My queen, do not worry. I will figure something out. And I will honor the oath I took.”</p>
<p>The queen nodded, her grey eyes looking past Gawain for a moment. She was not a knight, but living in Camelot meant bumping elbows with knights daily. She was familiar with oaths and with promises and with courtliness and with duty. Guinevere’s dowry had been the Round Table itself, a gift from her father which intrinsically became part of the knights’ lives here at Camelot. She had knighted a few young squires, including Lancelot when he first came to court accompanied by his fairy foster mother. She understood well enough that arguing with Gawain over breaking the oath would accomplish nothing, so she merely nodded, her whole face softening with sadness.</p>
<p>Arthur must have noticed his wife and Gawain standing so still and quiet amidst the growing raucous. The king strolled over, and Gawain offered a bow.</p>
<p>“That was certainly a fine blow, Gawain,” Arthur said, a grin cutting across his features.</p>
<p>“Thank you, sire,” Gawain said.</p>
<p>“My dear wife, don’t be so unhappy,” Arthur said, with a chuckle. He got an arm around Guinevere and with his other hand, tilted her chin up so she faced him. She looked no less unhappy than earlier, even as he said, “A feast is no place for such gloomy emotions! Smile, be merry, for Gawain yet lives.”</p>
<p>Guinevere did not smile, but she allowed Arthur to lead her back to their thrones.</p>
<p>Before any of the courtiers or knights could approach, Gawain found himself ringed by his brothers, who similarly carried him along to where they had all been sitting.</p>
<p>“Gawain, was that wise? You could be killed!” Gareth said, with a frown which was very unsuited for his fresh features and round cheeks.</p>
<p>“Being a knight is not without a certain danger,” Gawain began.</p>
<p>“Not throwing yourself into fights with some fiendish creature like that green knight would make you a lot less liable to lose your life!” Gaheris said, face red with anger he was barely able to swallow. He was terrible at expressing any sort of feeling, so no matter what was going on inside of his head, it seemed to always emerge as anger or rudeness.</p>
<p>“I don’t think that was a fiend,” Agravaine said. “Undead is a little more likely, what with his head coming off and all. But fey is most likely of all.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that’s the issue,” Gawain said, a little wearily, as he sank down at the bench he had been sat at earlier. “I have given my oath and I will not go back on it. There is a year until… until this finishes, so Agravaine, you must be ready to become the heir to our family, if I do not return.”</p>
<p>Agravaine sat down, too, frowning. “I’d be no good at ruling Orkney. Besides, mother would disapprove I’m sure. Our baby brother—”</p>
<p>“Our baby brother Mordred is just that, a child,” Gawain cut in. “He is not yet ten and no matter how clever he is already, you are the next in line.”</p>
<p>“It won’t come to that,” Agravaine said, though it might have been more to convince himself. “You’re the best knight at the Round Table.”</p>
<p>“Other than Sir Lancelot,” Gareth said a little apologetically, and Gaheris poked him. “What? Sir Lancelot is just as good as Gawain.”</p>
<p>“I disagree,” Gaheris said. “If they ever did fight, Gawain would tear that French bastard apart.”</p>
<p>Lyonesse, Gareth’s fiancée, had moved from where she sat earlier with her cousins to join them, bringing with her a tray of food which was only just now beginning to circulate the hall after Arthur had gotten his adventure or marvel. She was nearly part of the family as it was. Gawain felt a sudden worry that he would have to leave Camelot before his brother’s wedding. But, no, that was at the start of the summer. Surely setting off after would still give him enough time to search for the Green Knight.</p>
<p>Lyonesse gave a little smile to Gareth as she slipped onto the bench next to him, reaching for her fiancé’s hand under the table, then said to Gawain, “Are you alright, after that?”</p>
<p>“I am unharmed,” Gawain said. It would have been a lie to say he was unconcerned, so Gawain did not add anything else.</p>
<p>“We’re all a little worried,” Gareth said.</p>
<p>“We can at least make sure that, for when you need to leave, you are well supplied, right?” Lyonesse said.</p>
<p>“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Gawain said. “I don’t think I’ll leave until after the feast day of St John the Baptist.”</p>
<p>That made Gareth and Lyonesse look at each other and smile. Their wedding was the day before.</p>
<p>“If you’re sure it will give you enough time,” Gareth said. “We’d love to have you there.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t miss it,” Gawain said, able to turn the conversation from there to happier topics.</p>
<p>The music had begun at some point, and Gawain hadn’t even noticed. Food was being served, drinks were being refilled, and it seemed most of the court had forgotten already about the Green Knight. It was a time to enjoy oneself, as Arthur had said, and it seemed as though the court was eager to do that. They had watched their adventure, and after that spectacle they were ready to eat.</p>
<p>Gawain was not able to banish his worry, though, despite the fine wine and hearty food. He knew from the heaviness in his heart and the chill he still felt in his limbs that this was quite the ordeal he had begun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The feast day of St John the Baptist is 24 June, it seemed silly to me that he just partied for a year so I had one of his brothers getting married as a reason for him to stick around. Gareth is the only one other than Gawain who has a grand love story in the romances, and since this story isn’t focused on him it made sense to use an established canonical relationship.</p>
<p>The Gareth/Lyonesse bits are based off Malory's depiction of them in Le Morte Darthur rather than Tennyson's adaptation of that tale.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit of a transition, next chapter is when Gawain arrives at Hautdesert! Things really get going from there...</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy the chapter and that you and yours are staying safe x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winter began to flee, first to the higher reaches of the sky and deep underground, keeping the soil chilled and frosty and the threat of snow far above in the clouds. But eventually, the snow melted to warm rain showers, which fell, leaving flowers and leaves budding in its wake, crops emerging from the now softened ground. The breezes blew in from over the sea, bringing salt and spray, welcoming summer.</p>
<p>The day that Gareth and Lyonesse were married was perfect. It was still early enough in the season that the sunlight was not hot, just warm and golden as it fell upon the castle. There were still blossoms out, as bright and cheery as the faces of the bride and bridegroom.</p>
<p>“Look at those kids,” Agravaine said from where he stood near Gawain as Gareth and Lyonesse kissed on the steps of the cathedral once more, his tone belied by his huge smile and the wetness in his eyes.</p>
<p>“They seem so happy,” Gawain said, his own eyes feeling warm, too. He had been smiling all day, and even Gaheris had cracked his usual sour expression for something a little more mirthful. It seemed that everyone was in high spirits. It was impossible for him not to be carried along with their merriment.</p>
<p>Later, there was music pouring from the windows of the great hall, and dancing in the middle, the tables set up along the sides. Gawain got up for a few sets, happy enough to lead or follow depending on what his partner preferred.</p>
<p>At some point, while Gareth and Lyonesse still danced, ringed by other laughing and smiling courtiers, knights, and ladies, Gawain sat with Arthur and Guinevere, a little out of breath from all the dancing.</p>
<p>“This is certainly a fine party, is it not?” Arthur said, smiling broadly, hair and beard gleaming as though gold had been woven through them, dressed as always as a king should be.</p>
<p>“It is, uncle,” Gawain said. Guinevere, he saw, looked a little distant again, her grey eyes bright even as she too wore a little smile for the day. “And, Queen Guinevere, how are you enjoying this?”</p>
<p>“I am enjoying this very much,” she said, turning to him. “I am dearly happy for Sir Gareth and Lady Lyonesse, and better still, they seem happy together.”</p>
<p>“They do,” Gawain said, looking to his second youngest brother and new wife. For the first time, he realized that until recently, he had known so few people who were happy in their marriage. Guinevere and Arthur were, of course, a political union before a love match, and were often very careful around each other despite each being politically competent in their own, sometimes complimentary, way. It had taken his cousin Yvain and wife Laudine a few years after their hasty marriage shortly upon meeting until they understood one another. And, of course, his own mother and late father had gotten along especially poorly. All he remembered of Lot, beyond that he had died a traitor, was the loud and constant arguments with his mother.</p>
<p>“Can we be expecting a similar happy occasion for any of your brothers soon, nephew?” Arthur said.</p>
<p>Gawain shook his head. “Not that I am aware of. Gaheris has been spending a lot of time with Lyonesse’s sister, Lynette, though it might only be in friendship. Agravaine is not especially invested in the ideas of courtly love. And, of course, Mordred is a child.”</p>
<p>There was an uncharacteristic frown for half a moment on Arthur’s face, before he banished it with a forceful grin. “And, what about you?”</p>
<p>“That is not something I see for myself anytime soon,” Gawain said. “I would also, of course, need someone to marry, and I would hardly expect someone to marry a man expecting his death in abut six months.”</p>
<p>Guinevere put a very gentle hand on his arm at that, and said, “The fact that you leave so soon is what makes this otherwise happy day bleak. There is no shame in wanting to make sure that your spouse would be not left widowed so soon after.”</p>
<p>“Don’t look so glum, Jenny,” Arthur said, pushing the jug of wine closer to the queen. “Gawain won’t be leaving so soon.”</p>
<p>“Uncle, I had planned to leave in two days,” Gawain began.</p>
<p>“You will stay here until All Saint’s Day,” Arthur said. “We have need of you here. As one of the greatest knights of the Round Table, you will have no trouble finding the Green Chapel and besting the Green Knight.”</p>
<p>Gawain found himself unable to speak for a moment. If he waited until All Saint’s, he would have two months in which to find the Green Chapel. And besides, he was not leaving to best the Green Knight in combat, but to fulfill the bargain they had made. It was certainly a fey bargain of some sort, and in the following months Gawain had realized that a blow to the head had not been specified. And had he instead merely offered a friendly punch, he would have held to the wording of the deal and not put his life in danger.</p>
<p>“Uncle, I,” Gawain began, then began again. “I do not know if that will be enough time for me to seek the Green Chapel…”</p>
<p>“I am sure it will be,” Arthur said, with a genial wave.</p>
<p>“Are you asking me to stay, or are you commanding that I do?” Gawain said.</p>
<p>Arthur’s eyes settled on him, their gaze incongruously heavy despite their bright blue color. “Let us call it a request. That is, after all, a little more pleasant.” </p>
<p>Gawain felt sick with worry as the king continued.</p>
<p>“My queen’s champion, Lancelot, has been absent from court for nearly a year. I have heard a rumor that he is at the court of Lord Galehaut, who has fought me before. I only hope that Lancelot brings a tempering influence on the man. I would not have both of my champions gone at once, especially not with the threat of invasion from oversea powers and with the Otherworld so aggressive as to allow the Green Knight to threaten my knights,” Arthur said.</p>
<p>“Sir Kay will be here,” Guinevere said, gently.</p>
<p>“He is my foster brother and dear to me, but Kay has duties beyond what Gawain or Lancelot do,” Arthur said. “He is the seneschal, so would not be available to be sent out on important missions.”</p>
<p>Gawain wanted to protest, that Bedivere or Lucan would be able to help Kay, that there were so many other knights like Bedivere or Erec or Fierefitz or even Gaheris who could be called upon for aid. There were one hundred and fifty seats at the table, all of them occupied but one, and even if there were perhaps two dozen knights away on quests that still left so many available to help as the king required.</p>
<p>If the king wanted him to stay, there was no way Gawain could leave without being named a traitor. So Gawain nodded, and said, “I will stay as you have requested.”</p>
<p>Arthur beamed at that. “I was hoping you’d say that. Have another drink, nephew. It’s your brother’s wedding, after all.”</p>
<p>And so, spring sprouted into summer, dew dripping from newly grown leaves to water the ground, soft winds bringing with it the sounds of birds and bugs, the sun overhead ripening the crops which soon grew brown and golden, as did the leaves, as autumn rose up along with the chill from deep in the earth. As the leaves began to fall from the trees, so did Gawain feel his spirit fall as he began to worry more and more over whether he would have the time needed to find the Green Chapel before the New Year.</p>
<p>The day before All Saint’s there was another massive feast, this one held by Arthur in honor of his favorite nephew, Gawain. The faces of everyone else seemed bright and happy, filled with none of the worry and despair that were gnawing at the base of Gawain’s throat.</p>
<p>“My king,” Gawain said, from where he sat on Arthur’s left, Guinevere on the king’s other side, “I am grateful for the honors which you have given to me, and that you still do, but do I have your blessing to depart after this?”</p>
<p>Arthur looked at him, sadness finally shadowing the youthful joy that had been there moments before, which was still there in the creases at the corners of his eyes. “You do,” Arthur said. “I only wish that you did not have to.”</p>
<p>Gawain this time was the one who put on a cheerful face. “I have already made my choice when I accepted the challenge. Why should I despair? Whether the end be good or bad, I will still have my honor.”</p>
<p>That seemed to please Arthur, since he nodded. “The stories of you shall be told forever.”</p>
<p>Guinevere, though, seemed less concerned with honor and a poetic legacy. “You have made your choice, yes, but still do take care of yourself.”</p>
<p>“I will,” Gawain said, this time the one to reach out and gently touch her arm. She nodded, the barest hint of a smile crossing her lips before it was gone.</p>
<p>He was up very early the next morning, well before the sun was visible, before anyone else had time to wake other than the squire he sent for to help him dress. It took a good amount of time, and the squire was quiet for the most part. His shield with the pentangle design he attached to his back, letting his sword hang at his side. He thanked the squire, and thus attired attended one final mass in the stillness of the early morning.</p>
<p>Some of the court had awoken to join him, and there were some tearful partings, especially from his brothers. Gawain returned all the embraces tightly, whispering best wishes since he did not trust his voice, receiving blessings in turn.</p>
<p>The last person he bid farewell to was the queen, who he embraced silently before turning to mount his horse.</p>
<p>Gawain rode from the castle into the pre-dawn light, frost still coating the ground. He only paused when he crested the hill nearest Camelot, looking back once to the castle. He felt emotion swelling up in his chest, and kissed his helmet before placing it atop his head, then turning, and riding away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Readers familiar with the romance will note that I cut out the lengthy description of the pentangle and its meaning for Gawain from lines 619-69 in the romance. It didn't fit in my prose, but the symbolism for Gawain's character is intended to still be present, and it's absence made the arming scene remarkably more streamlined in modern prose.</p>
<p>All Saint's is 1 November, and the day that Gawain does leave in the romance! That does leave him precious little time as the romance remarks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoy this chapter, within the next two chapters is when things will get a little spicier so expect warnings in the notes here and the rating to possibly change! Comments and kudos always appreciated, hope you have a lovely day</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next two months were lonely. Much of the time, Gawain spent on his own but for his horse, Gringolet, barely ever seeing other travelers. He crossed through first familiar lands, then wilderness he had never before been part of, wandering over unfamiliar streams and barren forests, the snow growing deeper all the while.</p>
<p>He faced many creatures, boars and bears, ravenous wolves and raging giants, even a dragon. But his sword always struck true, even as there was another battle raging that he could not defend himself from. The weather crew colder and colder, sleet leaking into his armor, the near constant rain and snow pouring from the heavens atop him, so that every morning he awoke nearly buried alive.</p>
<p>It was in this manner that Gawain awoke, shivering, with two weeks until the New Year. It would be better to let himself freeze to death, he decided for the hundredth time, than to return to court having broken his word.</p>
<p>His journey that day at first seemed as though it would be like any other. He passed a frozen lake from which the sedge had withered, while every now and again a lone bird would sing. The path farther up from the lake was tangled with hawthorn and hazel, so he continued along the edge of the lake until the tangles broke and he saw, surrounded by great oaks, a castle.</p>
<p>Gawain sat astride his horse for a moment, blinking the frost from his lashes, wondering if it were a dream or real. </p>
<p>The castle looked solid enough, with the gatehouses and towers gleaming from the snow that capped them, pennants hanging stiffly from the peaks, and smoke rising from the chimneys.</p>
<p>He patted Gringolet’s neck, and said, “I dearly pray that this is real, and that whoever lives here may offer us both hospitality and information.”</p>
<p>Gringolet was happy enough to approach the gates, and Gawain tilted his head back, calling up to the gatehouses, “Good sir, hello!”</p>
<p>“Hello indeed, sir knight,” a watchman called down. “May I help you?”</p>
<p>“If you please,” Gawain said, “would you please pass along my plea for hospitality the owner of this keep?”</p>
<p>“I certainly will,” the watchman said. “I am sure you will be welcomed in, sir.”</p>
<p>Gawain nodded, though his heart itself seemed to freeze as the watchman disappeared. There were a few long minutes as he waited, half sure that the lord or lady here preferred to not let simply any wandering knight into their castle, which was not unreasonable, when the drawbridge fell open and a steward and host of servants stepped out to greet him. Gawain nearly fell of his horse as he greeted them, and happily followed them into the castle.</p>
<p>“If you will follow me, sir knight, his lordship will see you,” the steward said as a squire reached up for Gringolet’s reins.</p>
<p>“I would be honored,” Gawain said, not so much dismounting as clattering to the ground. He patted his horse again. “What should I call the lord, and indeed the castle here? I am ashamed to say I do not know of it.”</p>
<p>“This castle is called Hautdesert, and it is ruled by Lord Bertilak and Lady Roselle,” the steward said.</p>
<p>Gawain nodded, and said, “Thank you.”</p>
<p>From there, he could feel as the ice in his hair began to melt as he followed the steward through the halls. He hadn’t shaved in two months so his beard had grown, untrimmed, wild and red-gold like the rest of his hair, through it was frozen now into undoubtably some strange position. He was only starting to feel just how saturated his boots, gambeson, hose, and underthings were now that he was no longer in the cold. He tried not to shiver, and he was glad that Gringolet was getting immediate brushing down by the squire.</p>
<p>The first thing he noticed about the great hall he was led into was how very warm it was within. A fire blazed in the hearth, huge and warm, filling every corner of the room. There were some people in here, courtiers of some sort by their dress, but none of their faces were ones Gawain knew.</p>
<p>His attention was almost immediately drawn to the man who stood before the hearth. He was a big man, tall in stature with a wide stance and broad chest and shoulders. He had long hair and a well kept beard of a dark brown that had a reddish sheen. There was a healthy pink in his skin, less pale than the courtiers with light skin despite the winter months. He was dressed in a beautiful robe with an equally well made tunic underneath it.</p>
<p>Judging by how everyone seemed to be bent slightly towards the man, this must have been the lord.</p>
<p>Gawain bowed, and said, “Lord Bertilak de Hautdesert?”</p>
<p>“That is me, yes,” the lord said. “Please, stand, and tell me, who do I address?”</p>
<p>“I am Sir Gawain of Orkney,” Gawain said, standing as he was instructed. As he began to remove his helmet out of respect for his host, Bertilak himself stepped forward.</p>
<p>“Allow me,” Bertilak said, taking off Gawain’s helmet himself.</p>
<p>Gawain blushed, not only for the disarray in his appearance, but since this close to Bertilak it was apparent that he was very handsome.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Lord Bertilak,” Gawain said, “and I apologize for how unclean I am.”</p>
<p>“No apology necessary, the weather has been snowing ferociously for at least two weeks, so its a wonder you’re not frozen out there,” Bertilak said. “You are welcome at Hautdesert for as long as you would like to stay. Let me show you to your room, so you can warm up and change into something a little drier.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Gawain said, bowing again.</p>
<p>Bertilak himself showed Gawain to the rooms he was begin given, keeping his pace sedate much to Gawain’s gratitude. There was already a bathtub drawn and waiting, and even as they stepped in, a servant walked after with an armful of clothes which they laid out on the bed. The bed itself was an enormous piece with gold hems on the curtains and beautifully stitched counterpanes. On the walls hung tapestries done in a familiar style but depicting unfamiliar scenes: one seemed to be a story of a woman meeting a hawk who turned into a knight then was slain, another of a knight meeting a woman who took him underground and emerged into wintertime. He didn’t spend too long just now admiring the scenes, and turned to thank Bertilak instead.</p>
<p>“It is my pleasure,” Bertilak said. “Take all the time you need here, and if you have strength for it, we would love to have you at supper with us. It won’t be for a few hours yet, since it is only just past midday.”</p>
<p>Gawain thanked him again, and once he had left, had the servant help him remove the plate armor which he had been wearing. That was sent away to be cleaned, and Gawain found himself on his own before too long, sinking into the bath, the water hot enough that it hurt his muscles as they began to unknot themselves. He shut his eyes, not yet reaching for the drink or food that had been set out on the side table within reach, not thinking of the Green Knight and Green Chapel for the first time in at least two months.</p>
<p>He dozed off briefly, and the sun was still bright and clear when he awoke. It must not have been too long, since the water was still warm. Gawain thoroughly cleaned himself then after drying off used one of the enormous mirrors to shave and trim his hair with a golden pair of scissors and razor that had been left along with other toiletries on the dressing table.</p>
<p>He had a little to eat, mostly some of the water to drink which was sweet and fresh on the tongue, then surveyed the mountain of clothes he had been offered.</p>
<p>The styles were not all familiar, though all of the clothes seem to be finely made from rich materials. Everything seemed to be perfectly his size, which was unexpected. Gawain found a red tunic with golden buttons and wide sleeves, along with a pair of dove grey hose and little slippers that had golden buttons on them, but not before he found some sort of apparel that was so sheer and seemed to have material lacking in various areas that he could only imagine it was some sort of underclothes.</p>
<p>When he stepped from the chambers, there was another servant waiting to show him back to the hall where Bertilak had first greeted him. Gawain found himself thronged by courtiers as soon as he had stepped into the room, hands on his elbows. Being around so many people was immediately overwhelming, and he was glad when Bertilak stepped forward, along with two women.</p>
<p>“Sir Gawain, you look very well! May I introduce you to my wife, Lady Roselle?” Bertilak said.</p>
<p>The woman who had her arm entwined with the lord’s smiled and curtseyed, and Gawain returned it with a bow. Her long black hair was uncovered so the tight curls were visible as they fell over her shoulders, there were bright pearls around her neck, and she wore a dress of fine purple silk. She had dark skin, and her eyes were a deep brown that looked warm in the firelight.</p>
<p>“Lady Roselle, it is an honor to meet you,” Gawain said. He didn’t notice Roselle’s companion for a moment, since he was so entranced by the beauty of the lord and lady together.</p>
<p>“And it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Gawain,” Roselle said with a smile, </p>
<p>The second woman who had approached and now hung back was an old woman, dressed in grey and black, with veils wreathing her face and a wimple atop her head. She was also covered with jewels, though the only skin visible was her face, wrinkled and pale, with deep lines at the sides of her eyes.</p>
<p>“And, it is good to meet you too, madam,” Gawain said, bowing to the old woman.</p>
<p>The old woman sniffed, and said, “It’s Dame Griselda to you, young man.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Gawain said, bowing again. He held back a frown, since there was something almost familiar about Griselda.</p>
<p>He realized as he was shown into the hall where the tables had been laden with a feast for supper that there seemed to be less requirements here on who sat where. He was given a seat between Bertilak and Roselle, both of whom were exceptionally courteous to him.</p>
<p>“If you will forgive my immediate rudeness, Lord Bertilak, Lady Roselle, but have either of you heard of the Green Chapel?” Gawain said.</p>
<p>They exchanged a look, and Roselle said, “Why, yes, it is not so very far from here. There is a fellow named the Green Knight who spends much time there.”</p>
<p>He looked at her, eyes wide, hardly believing her words. “My lady, I… That is the knight I seek.”</p>
<p>“Truly? Well, that is good fortune indeed that you came to Hautdesert,” Roselle said with a smile.</p>
<p>“It truly is,” Gawain said. “How far is it from here? I had promised to meet him a year from last New Year’s, so that our enchange may be fulfilled.”</p>
<p>“It is not far at all,” Bertilak said, “just a two hour’s ride. We can go there before the day so that you may see it, if you wish. And, you are very welcome to stay with us until New Year’s.”</p>
<p>“That is more than generous, my lord, and I will happily accept both of those offers,” Gawain said, feeling dizzy with relief.</p>
<p>Everyone was keen to ask Gawain where he had come from, and he admitted that he was from Camelot and of the Round Table, even if Orkney was where he initially hailed from. There was a variety of questions about life there, from the vague to very specific which made Gawain wonder if some of the courtiers here had met some of the knights before on their travels.</p>
<p>He only had one glass of wine, but after a few hard weeks of eating poorly it went right to his head and he refused any more, even though it was warm and spiced.</p>
<p>As the evening wore on, he saw that Dame Griselda excused herself early from the table, exchanging smiles with Roselle and saying something quietly to the lady, before she hobbled away.</p>
<p>Gawain waited a few moments, before excusing himself to find the facilities, then followed after the old woman.</p>
<p>Griselda moved shockingly fast for the age she appeared, and she was already down two halls when he caught sight of her.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Gawain called, still a little unsteady. “Dame Griselda, do you have a moment?”</p>
<p>The old woman turned, slowly. “What can I do for you, young man? I only have a moment.”</p>
<p>“A moment is all I need,” Gawain said. “May I ask, what is it that you are doing here, Aunt Morgan?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There is a brief allusion to Keats' "La Belle Dame Sans Merci", and now that Morgan queen of my heart has showed up, this is where things will (hopefully) be getting going...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Otherworld is what romance poets called fairyland, it functions a little closer to the Feywilds from dnd than other modern ideas of a fairyland might be.<br/>Also I love Morgan and am very excited to start hinting at her changed role in this retelling! And, next chapter contains a bunch of smooching so that is also exciting.<br/>Comments and feedback are always appreciated, thanks for reading ^^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dame Griselda looked at him for a moment, and Gawain was worried he had mistaken her for his aunt. But then, she tilted her head back and laughed, reaching up for her wimple, taking it and the veils off with one sweeping motion. She seemed to grow in stature, and loose the years that had been part of her disguise, and after a moment, his aunt, Morgan le Fay, stood before him.</p><p>“Well, you’re cleverer than I thought, Gawain,” Morgan said, smiling. “How’s my sister been?”</p><p>“Mother has been well,” Gawain said. “We missed you at Gareth’s wedding.”</p><p>“I wish I had been able to come, but there was quite a bit of trouble at my castle and an unexpected… shall we say, guest kept me rather preoccupied. Did he get the present I sent?” Morgan said.</p><p>“Yes, he did. I think he and Lyonesse sent a thank you back, they were so pleased with it,” Gawain said.</p><p>“That’s good. Now then, what precisely are you doing here, Gawain?” Morgan said. She and his mother were full sisters, Arthur their younger half brother. It was hard to see where the three of them shared features, since their mother, Morgause, was pale with thin, brown hair, a pink face, and sharp features, while Arthur had a ruddy square face and light hair, while Morgan had thick black hair, pale cheeks, and blue eyes, the only one who looked like their shared mother. And Morgan now fixed her gaze onto Gawain, evenly, unblinking.</p><p>“I am here to fulfill my part in a bargain,” Gawain said, “but I suspect you know this already.”</p><p>Morgan smiled and said, “Perhaps a little. I am not here to make things more difficult for you.”</p><p>“Does Lady Roselle know that you are not Dame Griselda?” Gawain said.</p><p>“Why don’t you ask her?” Morgan said.</p><p>Gawain did not sigh. “If you are here, than I imagine this is not an ordinary castle. Is everyone here illusions which you have created?”</p><p>“No, though I don’t blame you for asking,” Morgan said. She had, on a few occasions, acted antagonistically towards the Round Table; though Arthur was her half brother, they were political rivals and Morgan had regarded herself as the rightful ruler for a time. Now, things were a little calmer between them, and both seemed reluctantly respectful, if not a true ally of the other. That did not stop her from causing trouble for the knights, which most of the knights regarded now as an entertaining challenge rather than death sentence. Even when things had been worse between her and Arthur, she had always been very fond of Gawain and his brothers, so he had no doubts as to whether she was being truthful now. “This is not an ordinary castle, you are right. I’m sure you’ve realized by now there was something fey about your bargain with the Green Knight.”</p><p>Gawain nodded. Now that she had mentioned it, and now that he felt a little more alive than he had this morning what with no longer being half frozen and having eaten and rested, Hautdesert certainly did seem like it may be the Otherworld, though he had never ventured there before.</p><p>Realizing that, his eyes widened and he raised a hand to his mouth.</p><p>“Auntie Morgan, I’ve eaten—” he began.</p><p>She laughed and shook her head. “You normally should be more worried than you are about eating whatever someone offers you, but you need not be worried here. There is even a church here, so you may attend for Christmas.”</p><p>Gawain blushed and said, “I would not want to offend my host by questioning what they offered.”</p><p>“Even if it might lead you into danger? The laws of hospitality do extend both ways, but not everyone might follow them, even if I can assure you Roselle and Bertilak do,” Morgan said.</p><p>“They have been most generous,” Gawain said, “and I am very grateful for what they have offered me. And I am glad for thus chance to have seen you, even if you are being a little vague as to why you are here.”</p><p>Morgan smiled and kissed his cheek. “I am in need of some rest, so I shall say goodnight. We can talk more tomorrow. Go back and enjoy yourself, I’m sure you have been missed.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Auntie Morgan,” Gawain said, kissing her cheek too then returned to the feast as she had suggested.</p><p>His presence had been missed, and not only by the courtiers, but by the lord and lady themselves. As he settled back in, happily accepting another cup of wine, a quick glance around the room showed him the otherworldly elements he hadn’t noticed upon his first arrival. Some of the flowers or leaves woven into the braids of the courtiers seemed to have grown there, and some of them had a few features that were distinctly non-human, whether than be red eyes, a second row of teeth, or a literal glow to them. About half of them had nine of these features, resembling instead just humans. The lord and lady were in this second half, totally normal but for how very beautiful both of them were.</p><p>The next few days passed just as pleasantly as that first. There was indeed a chapel to hear Christmas mass, and Bertilak took Gawain to see where the Green Chapel was located. It was more of a barrow half buried in snow than a church that Gawain recognized, but there were still knights of the Round Table who followed the pre-Christian deities, so it made sense there would be others in the land who did as well.</p><p>There were only a few nights left until the New Year when one night, Gawain sat with Bertilak in front of the large fireplace in the great hall, the room somehow empty but for the two of them.</p><p>“I cannot thank you or Lady Roselle enough for giving me shelter and offering me hospitality like this,” Gawain said.</p><p>“Not at all,” Bertilak said. “We have been more than happy to host you, and you have been a wonderful guest.”</p><p>Gawain flushed a little and said, “I must thank you anyway. And, if there is anything I can do to repay that, do let me know.”</p><p>Bertilak shook his head. “Spend the next few days resting. You will want to make sure that you are in good condition to meet with the Green Knight.” The lord leaned forward then, his eyes glinting for a moment in the firelight. “Why don’t we make a little bargain of our own, while you are here?”</p><p>“What did you have in mind?” Gawain said, taking a sip of wine, not wanting to agree too quickly.</p><p>“You spend the next three days relaxing here, and save your strength,” Bertilak said. “There is need for me to lead the hunting party so that we may have more provisions for our feasting. At the close of each day, we will exchange with the other what it is that we have won or been given over the course of that day.”</p><p>“It seems that this bargain will be a little in my favor, especially if you are going hunting and are asking me to rest here,” Gawain said.</p><p>“You are my guest,” Bertilak said, his voice light. “I would like it if the time you spent before meeting the Green Knight at the Chapel was spent happily.”</p><p>“That is too kind of you,” Gawain said, and blushed. “I am your guest, and with everything that you have offered to help me, I can do nothing but succeed in my quest. Thank you, my lord.”</p><p>“Please, you may call me Bertilak,” he said.</p><p>“Then you must call me Gawain.”</p><p>“I shall do so, happily,” Bertilak said. “Now, let us have one final drink to seal our bargain.”</p><p>They both filled their goblets again with the rich mulled wine, the spices dancing along Gawain’s tongue, filling his nose. They had more than one drink, and Gawain found himself growing quite tipsy. The room felt hot, with the fire blazing away and garbed in the warm clothes that the lord — Bertilak — had given him. Judging from the deep pink flush on Bertilak’s cheeks, the wine and heat had not left him unaffected as well.</p><p>And once he started looking, Gawain found he could not stop. He inelegantly raised his goblet for another drink, trying to hide his gaze, which was still fixed on Bertilak. He wanted to keep looking, he wanted to sit closer to the lord, he wanted to see what would happen if he put a hand on his arm, or leaned closer… but Gawain made himself shut his eyes and have another drink. Bertilak was married, married to Roselle.</p><p>The thought of Roselle sent his mind spinning off in another direction entirely. First he thought of asking her the very same thing, then he could not help but picture, perhaps less traitorously than the first two images, the lord and lady together. They were, after all, married.</p><p>He very deliberately set his goblet down.</p><p>“It is getting late, Bertilak,” Gawain said, and they both rose unsteadily to their feet. “I had best be getting to bed, before the dawn comes before I have yet touched my pillow.”</p><p>Bertilak grinned. “Of course. I hope that you have a pleasant evening, and more so that you let yourself stay abed a while longer than you have these last few days.”</p><p>They clasped each other’s hands, and Gawain wobbled for a moment before stepping forward to give Bertilak a hug. He didn’t realize what he had done until Bertilak embraced him back in turn.</p><p>After perhaps a little too long, Gawain stepped away, and after bidding Bertilak goodnight, made his way back to his chamber. He leaned against the door for a long moment, shutting his eyes, heart pounding with embarrassment at his actions just earlier. Still dizzy, he toed off his boots and draped his robe over a chair then perched in the window seat, pressing his cheek against the glass pane, which was cold from the frost already laced across it. He shut his eyes again, and tried not to think too closely at how warm the embrace he had shared with Bertilak had been.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am very excited™ to be getting into the exchange, chapter 8 is where things will get a little more explicit on both sides... I don't really have a lot to add beyond a lot of the scholarship on this romance participates heavily in bi-erasure which is not my favorite so expect this fic to continue to be very bi and potentially polyamorous as well. Hope you enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gawain lay abed, peacefully dozing until the sunlight shone warm and golden on the walls of his room, though within the bed curtains it was still dark. He felt no headache, which was a surprise, but instead felt as though he had slept better than even the previous nights upon his soft bed. </p>
<p>He blinked heavily, hearing the sound of a door shutting. It was quiet, but he still pushed himself up so he could pry open the bed curtains.</p>
<p>He expected to perhaps see one of the servants coming to light the hearth, and so was surprised to see Roselle. She stepped into the room, moving lightly, the long skirts of her light blue dress brushing against the carpets. He was not sure what brought her here, but if she were simply coming to take something that had been left in the guest room before he had been given it, he did not wish to disturb her. So Gawain let the curtains drift shut and lay back on his pillow, letting his eyes fall closed once more.</p>
<p>A few moments passed, and Gawain listened for the door. But instead, he heard his name, softly, being called.</p>
<p>He waited a moment, but pretending to sleep felt too dishonest, but he could at least act as though he had just awoken.</p>
<p>“Lady Roselle?” he said, half questioning, as he sat up. He pushed the bed curtain aside just a little, and saw that she had moved closer.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Sir Gawain,” she said, and smiled. “I thought to see if you were awake, and if so, to offer you some refreshment.” As she spoke, she spread her hands wide and a tray appeared in them, laden with a pot of some fragrant tisane, bowls with honey and fresh butter and jam, soft cheese, a bowl of dried figs, and bread that smelled as though it had been newly plucked from the oven.</p>
<p>“Good morning, my lady,” he said. “You didn’t have to come all this way, but I thank you for it.”</p>
<p>“Think nothing of it,” Roselle said with a smile, bending forward and setting the tray down on his lap.</p>
<p>“You are too kind to me,” Gawain said. “Will you join me?”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Roselle said, and sat on the edge of the bed, making another cup and plate for herself in a similar manner as the tray had appeared in her hands.</p>
<p>“May I ask, are you an enchanter of some variety?” Gawain said. “Or, well, does everyone with fey blood have magic?”</p>
<p>“It’s not a must, but folks with Otherworldly parentage do often have magic,” Roselle said. “Mine is from a mix of both. Magic can be learned, and is sometimes taught in a nunnery or monastery alongside theology and herbalism.”</p>
<p>“That’s how my Aunt Morgan learned,” Gawain said, nodding and trying to gauge a reaction to the name on the noblewoman’s face.</p>
<p>But Roselle just smiled brightly and said, “Exactly. And sometimes, having preternatural blood of some sort makes one more inclined to try to learn, or else it may bestow certain powers of its own. My parents are both of the Otherworld, as am I, but I also spent time to learn how to better craft my spells.”</p>
<p>“It is an admirable talent, one that requires a deep knowledge of your craft,” Gawain said.</p>
<p>“Well, thank you. You truly are as charming as all the stories say, Sir Gawain,” Roselle said.</p>
<p>“You flatter me, my lady,” Gawain said, and found himself to be blushing. He watched as the corners of her mouth again tilted up, trying not to stare at how soft her lips looked, and when he did realize he was staring, he made himself look down into his cup. </p>
<p>“Please, just Roselle,” she said. “We are friends, are we not?” He looked back up to see her raise her up, an eyebrow half quirked in question.</p>
<p>“We are indeed friends, my, Roselle,” he said, fumbling for a moment. “You must call me simply Gawain then.”</p>
<p>She beamed. “Gawain it is.”</p>
<p>Gawain paused just as he raised his own cup to his lips, and wondered if the food and drink he was having here would count in his deal with Bertilak. It wasn’t as though food and drink, especially once it was eaten, could be shared, and it wasn’t as though it were a winning. He pondered that for half a moment, and thought back to their exact words and what he knew of fey bargains and decided that breakfast was safe enough.</p>
<p>They talked while they shared the breakfast. Gawain felt a little self conscious that he was still abed, especially seeing the beautiful gown that Roselle wore. It was a light creamy pink, with a burgundy girdle, and she wore a necklace that dropped low into the deep neckline of her dress, which he was trying very hard not to notice. He wore only a nightshirt, which had a neckline as well that was wider than he had anticipated that he had tried to right but he feared still looked a little too tousled while she was so put together. </p>
<p>He also tried not to move very much, both to not spill the tray but also to not tip her over into his lap. She seemed to be seated comfortably on the edge of the bed, and seemed to notice none of Gawain’s warm cheeks nor how he reached to fix his nightshirt every now and again.</p>
<p>“I must admit,” Roselle said, the sun catching her necklace as she half turned away from him, “having Gawain of Orkney himself stay at my keep is an honor I had not expected.”</p>
<p>“Truly, the honor is mine, for I would be frozen without the generous aid of you and your husband, Roselle,” he said.</p>
<p>She acknowledged that with a nod, but was studying him thoughtfully. “I find myself a little curious. How do I know if you really are Gawain? You are an unknown at this court, and certainly a fair one, but we only have the stories of you to know you by.”</p>
<p>“What could I do to prove my identity to you, Roselle?” he said, a little afraid he had come short in manners.</p>
<p>Roselle tilted a shoulder in a shrug. “There are many stories about your prowess in battle, but you have been promised a rest here. Everyone has heard tell of your beauty, and that is apparent as well. Gawain is famous for his polity and for his gentilesse. Surely if you are indeed Sir Gawain you would have begged a kiss in the name of courtesy through hint or through words.”</p>
<p>“Certainly, Roselle, I will kiss at your wish or command,” Gawain said, “both for my duty as a knight, and for how charming a host you have been.”</p>
<p>She smiled and put a hand between them. It was so very close to touching Gawain’s knee through the blankets, and he almost wished that she had. He closed his eyes as Roselle leaned forward and kissed him.</p>
<p>It was a brief kiss, but still sweet from the fruit and honey, with something earthy from the tisane. There must have been some oil in her hair or scent she was wearing, since he got a heady breath of vanilla and lilac and peppercorn.</p>
<p>“Indeed, you must truly be Sir Gawain,” she said as she pulled away, but still close enough that he felt the breath of her words on his own lips.</p>
<p>“At your service, my lady,” he said, his eyes fluttering open.</p>
<p>There was a lovely dark warmth to her cheeks, and he met her gaze as she too opened her eyes.</p>
<p>He didn’t remember much of what they talked about after that, and when she got up after magicking away the tray, he sat for a while smiling at nothing after she left. Gawain blinked himself out of that pleasant daze and stood, hastily pulling his nightshirt down where it had ridden up his legs.</p>
<p>There was again the whole assortment of clothes to pick from. He was never able to find an outfit again that he had worn already, and was again struck by the generosity of his hosts.</p>
<p>Gawain first picked up a set of robes but realized he had been drawn to them since the color perfectly matched Roselle’s girdle, so he set those down again and instead picked up a scarlet tunic that laced up to the neckline and picked out hose in two colors. He pinned a cloak on, using his own pin still in the shape of his family’s crest. The pin had belonged to his father a long time ago, and he wore it less from sentiment since he barely remembered Lot and more since he was pleased his mother had given it to him.</p>
<p>Standing before the mirror, Gawain finished getting himself ready and made sure his hair was nearly brushed. He looked the part of the knight, and hoped he looked the part of himself, especially since as he was now a little shy to realize that the bards even here had spoken of him.</p>
<p>The colors were striking on him, complementing rather than clashing with his hair. Gawain raised a hand for a moment to his lips, a smile coming to them unbidden, not noticing the pink on his cheeks.</p>
<p>When he left his quarters, he was smiling still. It had snowed again last night, and it was snowing still, beginning to cover the tracks in the courtyard from where Bertilak had left with the hunt that morning. He joined Roselle and Morgan, still in the guise of Dame Griselda who gave no indication that she knew Gawain, and the other courtiers who wished to attend morning service with them.</p>
<p>Hearing the words of the service was comforting to Gawain. The smells of incense and candles and the rich depth of the stone all around them was familiar, and if he closed his eyes he might have been in the chapel at Camelot, or but for the lack of salt, back home in Orkney. He was hit, for the first time, with a bittersweet longing to be by the northern seas once more.</p>
<p>It was only when the service had finished, and he offered Roselle a hand up that he realized he had won or been gifted something today. And as Roselle smiled up at him, hand warm on his arm, Gawain realized he had no idea how to tell someone that he had kissed their spouse, and how to return that in a bargain.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am entirely leaving off Bertilak’s half of the hunting scenes which mirror the bedroom scenes, both since this version is told solely from Gawain’s POV and since the hunting scenes can get rather gruesome in the romance in the detail that they describe the killings. For those less familiar with the romance, each of the animals Bertilak and the hunters encounter in the woods mirror Gawain’s behavior when encountering the (in the romance, unnamed) lady in the bedroom: a deer for fright, a boar for trying to be headstrong, and a fox for cunning. I make no promises of how well that has carried over into this version, especially since as you will see in the next chapter, I have begun to deviate from the romance itself into romance novel territory.</p>
<p>This one's a bit shorter so sorry about that, been busy with classes starting up again and just down about writing. Hope you enjoy the chapter, comments and feedback are always appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It continued to lightly precipitate all through the day, and by the time Bertilak returned with the hunt, a thick layer of snow had quilted the keep. </p>
<p>Gawain spent the day with Roselle, Morgan as Griselda, and the other courtiers who had not wished to spend the day out of doors. There was a large central room that was kept warm from a blazing fire. Some of the folk who lived at the castle, including Roselle, sewed or wove while listening to stories from the others who were ringed about the room, contributing their own as well. Everyone was eager to hear stories from Gawain himself about his prowess, martial or otherwise, but he was able to easily enough turn the tales to his brothers or some of the other knights of Camelot.</p>
<p>The day had passed pleasantly, and he went with Roselle and the others to greet Bertilak and the hunters when they returned. Snow dusted their shoulders, frost lined their hair and their beards if they had them, and the hems of their cloaks were wet from melting in the heat of the keep.</p>
<p>“Bertilak,” Roselle called, smiling as she stepped over to her husband.</p>
<p>Gawain felt a stab of something in his chest as he saw those two clasp hands, though what he did not know. They were lovely together, Roselle in her sweeping gown with her hair falling down her back in curls and a soft smile on her face, Bertilak with his cheeks flushed from the cold and still in his garb from trekking the woods. As well as whatever unpleasant feeling, there was something else in his chest, something that kept him from looking away from the pair, despite how he knew he must be staring.</p>
<p>He eventually did wrench his eyes away when those two bent their heads together, saying something quietly to each other and smiling softly. The servants who had gone with the hunt to assist it brought in venison, trays of it, all of it newly cleaned and set up to be cooked for the feast that would be held that evening.</p>
<p>As though the weight of his earlier gaze had been felt, Gawain heard Bertilak call out his name. Gawain looked back with an obligatory smile, and said, “It seems you have had a successful day, my lord.”</p>
<p>Bertilak grinned in response, one of Roselle’s hands still in his. “It was indeed, but have I not already asked you to call me Bertilak?”</p>
<p>“You have,” Gawain said, and blushed. Formality was such an easy thing to hide behind.</p>
<p>“But, yes,” Bertilak said, “here is what I have gained today. It was a successful hunt for certain! Does this impress you, Gawain?”</p>
<p>“It does indeed, my, um, Bertilak,” Gawain said, blushing further with that fumble.</p>
<p>Neither Bertilak or Roselle seemed to think anything of it, or else didn’t even take notice of it.</p>
<p>“And how was your day, Gawain? Was it restful?” Bertilak said.</p>
<p>“It was, thank you,” Gawain said. “Your castle here is magnificent. Now, I believe I have something that was given to me which I must share with you.”</p>
<p>Gawain stepped forward, very deliberately not looking at Roselle, and stopped when he was close enough to Bertilak that their toes touched. He took a deep breath, standing a little taller, and he reached out a hand to Bertilak’s cheek. He could feel the top of his beard, and he moved slowly enough that Bertilak should have an idea of what he was about to do, if he wished to back away.</p>
<p>So Gawain stood taller on his toes and looped his arms around Bertilak’s neck and kissed him.</p>
<p>“That is all I gained here today,” Gawain said, stepping back, blushing. He wondered if it had been too far. But he did not want to break a fey bargain, especially not in the home of the fey he had entered into it with. “And, and if it were more, I would gladly yield it to you, sir.”</p>
<p>And oh, if he hadn’t enjoyed that one as much as the kiss with Roselle! The lord had tasted of something spicy; the firm feel of his shoulders and the slight brush from his beard had made it into something different but just as lovely as that earlier kiss.</p>
<p>“You seem to have gained something quite precious today, then,” Bertilak said, eyes still on Gawain. He might have imagined it, and it might have been from the earlier cold, but there looked to be a little more color on the lord’s face, too, and the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile was certainly real. “May I ask who gave you such a favor?”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t our agreement,” Gawain said, blushing deeper.</p>
<p>Bertilak laughed and said, “You are right. Now then, </p>
<p>Gawain had the venison sent to the kitchens so it could be shared with the entire keep, and before long he sat down with the rest of the household and court to the feast, in the place of honor between Bertilak and Roselle.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter bumps the whole fic into explicit, the next uhh 3 chapters will also have explicit sex, even if it is far more soft than hardcore! So count this as your warning to skip the next few and hop back in around Chapter 12 for some beheading contests instead! I am also trying to navigate consent when its a fairy bargain, so expect some talking before they just bang. Thanks as always for your interest in the fic, hope you enjoy the chapter &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gawain awoke the next morning without a dull head despite the rich wine that had been flowing all the previous evening at the feast. He kept his eyes closed a moment longer, stretching, luxuriating in the heady feeling that he didn’t have to go anywhere. There were no quests immediately for him to run off and complete, no dragons to slay, no bridges of swords to cross, no knights on bridges, no giants on hilltops, no sorcerers in towers. </p>
<p>He contemplated going back to sleep. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes, so it might yet be possible.</p>
<p>But he had never been able to lie abed for long once he had woken, despite the comfort of his surroundings and directions of his host. Gawain sat up and realized that he had put on one of the sets of nightclothes that was somehow both gaudier and flimsier than what he was used to. Rather than a plain shirt, which was what he usually used in winter and which he had used the previous night, it was some sort of material thin enough that it was translucent when it caught the light just so. Beyond the transparency, the nightshirt itself was close enough to what he might normally wear, beyond the wider neckline and the intricacy of the clasps at the sleeves. Gawain felt his cheeks flushing even though it was just him seeing it. The strangest part was, he wasn’t as embarrassed as he ought to have been.</p>
<p>He paused a moment. It was just clothes, sure, even if they were rather more revealing than something he might normally wear. It didn’t seem so bad to enjoy looking well when he had the chance, and especially not since Bertilak had been very insistent that Gawain have a good time while he stayed at Hautdesert.</p>
<p>The thought of Bertilak brought back the memory of their kiss from last night, which only made him remember kissing Roselle in the morning, and both instances made him blush again. To distract himself from thinking on the matter further, Gawain stood up, pushing aside the quilts, intending to find some sort of robe to wear over the nightshirt, especially since his legs would get cold quickly.</p>
<p>But just as he stood, there was a knock at the door.</p>
<p>Gawain looked around for a moment. “I’ll be right there,” he said, the faint edge of panic seeping into his normally calm tone. He tore open the chest as quietly as he could manage, and snatched the first robe he could find, an affair made of some green silk material with some sort of embroidery on its sleeves and hem, furiously tying it as he hurried to the door.</p>
<p>Roselle was standing there, looking just as elegant as the previous morning, this time dressed in a pale pink dress, with a golden girdle around her waist and gold trim at the rather deep neckline that Gawain was desperately trying to avoid noticing. Her hair was loose again, the curls thick and heavy from where they floated around her head and around her shoulders.</p>
<p>The only thing that made his shock and blush better was that she also seemed momentarily shocked as well. Gawain realized far too late that the robe he had selected had a very deliberate gap between where it closed at the neckline and where it continued farther down his chest.</p>
<p>“Ah, my lady, Roselle,” he said, still blushing. “How are you this morning?”</p>
<p>“I am well, very well, thank you, Gawain,” she said, her cheeks darkening to a warmer shade. “And, how are you?”</p>
<p>“Um, you know.” He tried to casually find a way to close the robe, but there was not enough fabric there for it to fasten so it was clearly a deliberate choice on the part of the tailor. “I’m well. I don’t know if I have ever slept so well as I have here.”</p>
<p>“I am glad to hear that,” Roselle said. “Do let me know if there is anything else that my husband or I can do for you.”</p>
<p>Gawain nodded, mouth suddenly dry. Beyond being just well this morning, whatever part of his mind that controlled his amorous imaginings was clearly feeling roused. Roselle surely intended something about her and Bertilak’s duties as hosts, if there was something missing in his room or if he required some other sort of food or brush for Gringolet. But all Gawain could think of was kissing them both again, this time with both of them present and in a setting far more intimate than the great hall. It was too easy to picture them relieving him of his clothes, something far more practical than whatever he was wearing now, and returning that favor. He very deliberately stopped that thought before it went much farther, telling himself to revisit it later if ever since now was surely not the time.</p>
<p>“Oh, would you like to come in?” Gawain said, blushing again, not knowing how to answer the question she had asked before.</p>
<p>Roselle nodded, and softly stepped inside. He closed the door after, realizing belatedly she had probably intended to ask him to breakfast.</p>
<p>“Um, can I get you anything? I think there was something to drink in here,” Gawain said, remembering a jug of herbed water somewhere. He felt a little silly offering since it was her castle.</p>
<p>She shook her head. “Only if you want. Um. I had actually wanted to ask you, well, since you had made the bargain with Bertilak, if you were alright with everything that happened yesterday. Since, well, if it wasn’t I would like to apologize.”</p>
<p>“Oh! No, not at all,” Gawain said, shaking his head. “It was very nice. I… I really do not know the etiquette when fey bargains are present, but, my lady, you are married…”</p>
<p>“Bertilak and I are married, yes, but we are not exclusive to one another in our affections,” Roselle said. “We are very fond of each other, but you are the one who we ought to check with if this progresses at all, or else I can make certain it does not.”</p>
<p>Gawain took a moment to fully understand her words. </p>
<p>The other couples he knew had married for a variety of reasons. Gareth and Lyonesse married for love, Arthur and Guinevere were a political match who had crafted their union into friendship, his own parents a political match that had turned quite sour. Gawain didn’t think he knew of anyone else who had loved more than one person, or at least slept with more than one at once. It was possible, of course, and it was far too easy an image for his mind to turn to now.</p>
<p>“I confess, I was a little worried that I had been getting between the two of you unjustly,” Gawain said.</p>
<p>“You are welcome, if it is somewhere you would like to be,” Roselle said.</p>
<p>Gawain nodded, reaching forward for her hands which he clasped, and said, “Yes, it is, I think. I have not known either of you long, but I enjoyed yesterday very much. And have been glad to know you both more during my stay here.”</p>
<p>Roselle smiled, and squeezed his hands. “I’m glad to hear. Would it be alright if I kissed you?”</p>
<p>“I am at your bidding,” Gawain said. “Kiss me whenever you like, Roselle.”</p>
<p>Very carefully, still holding his hands, she leaned up on her tiptoes. Gawain’s eyes fell shut as she pressed her lips to his. This kiss was longer than the one the previous day, far longer and far deeper. He felt himself melting into it, melting into her as he wound an arm around Roselle’s waist to pull her closer. It was somehow one kiss, but it felt like a thousand all pressed together, and when they both pulled back for air, he felt breathless enough as though it had been a thousand.</p>
<p>“Gawain,” she said, “is kissing all you would like? Or would you like it if I showed you something else today?”</p>
<p>They were close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips still. “I wouldn’t mind if you showed me something else,” he said.</p>
<p>She nodded. “First, what are some things you don’t like?”</p>
<p>Gawain paused. “Um. I have never… well. I have kissed people before, but never anything beyond holding hands, so… Well, I don’t think I would like anything painful. Beyond that, I don’t really know.”</p>
<p>“That leaves us with plenty of room to explore what you do like,” Roselle said, quirking an eyebrow just slightly. She let go of his hands to loop them into the belt of the robe. “Do you mind if I take this off?”</p>
<p>“Not at all,” he said, the look on her face once she had removed it sending another spike of pounding warmth through his chest. He was glad that he had worn the ridiculous thing since Roselle seemed to find it, or the process of removing it, enticing. It didn’t take long for him to ask to return the favor, so he removed first her girdle, then her gown, setting it all aside neatly rather than ruin the fabric. The fabric of her shift was thin, as thin as his nightshirt, neither of which left much to the imagination.</p>
<p>“You can touch me,” she said, when he hesitated.</p>
<p>Gawain tentatively reached forward, feeling the soft fullness of her breasts, then brushing one hand and lower between them just to feel how warm she was, letting the other linger before tracing it up to her collarbone.</p>
<p>She smiled again as she reached for the hem of his nightshirt. “And, may I remove this?” Roselle said.</p>
<p>Gawain nodded, mouth suddenly dry. “Please.”</p>
<p>He lifted his arms so it would be easier for Roselle to remove the nightshirt, which fluttered to the floor. His interest in the proceedings had been apparent even with the thin layer of fabric, but without it, his arousal was unmistakable. Gawain blushed, but she didn’t look embarrassed. It was quite the opposite, and the look she gave him held just as much interest as he felt.</p>
<p>“Would you get onto the bed?” Roselle said.</p>
<p>He was over to the bed in an instant, Roselle moving with him. Gawain laid back as she directed, and she was over him in a moment, legs straddling him as her long hair curled down around her shoulders, brushing his chest as she bent forward to his neck. He hadn’t known that a neck was so very sensitive, and Gawain let out a gasp.</p>
<p>“Too much?” Roselle said.</p>
<p>“I,” Gawain said, and shook his head. “No, I like it.”</p>
<p>“Tell me if you change your mind,” Roselle said, and once he agreed, she began kissing his neck once again. But Roselle didn’t remain in just one area for long. The caress of her lips down his stomach stretched between ticklish and pleasurable, soon spiking fully to pleasure as she moved lower down his body.</p>
<p>When her fingers curled around his cock, Gawain felt his whole body jolt. His head fell back into the pillow as he gasped again, trying not to shove back too hard into her touch. And when that touch changed from fingers to lips, then it wasn’t long before Gawain was gone.</p>
<p>Had he not been so caught up in the sensation, Gawain might have been embarrassed at the speed with which he found his release.</p>
<p>Roselle lay next to him with a satisfied smile while he caught his breath, lacing her fingers through his hair. When he could finally string a few words together, he moved a little farther down the bed, kissing her down her chest until he sat between her legs, mimicking the movements as she had moved down his body. “Please do tell me if I’m doing this right,” Gawain said, and got to work.</p>
<p>Roselle directed him as he had asked, but after a little while he found a rhythm, especially judging from the way she gasped and shook and pressed closer to his mouth he was doing well enough. </p>
<p>After, Gawain moved to lay next to her, and pressed one final kiss to her mouth. Roselle arced up to meet him, eyes still closed, and when they parted Gawain lay down next to her. They didn’t speak for a long while, and might have drifted off though it was still morning when Gawain opened his eyes a second time, legs tangled with hers.</p>
<p>He blinked a few times, coming back to his surroundings, and he smiled at Roselle. </p>
<p>“Well hello again, Gawain,” Roselle said.</p>
<p>“A very good morning to you, my lady,” Gawain said, and kissed her hand.</p>
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